Mister Stu
by Kevin3
Summary: With all the nasty swipes at Sues at there, what happened to making fun of Stus? This story is going to help change this gender inequality. Not only that, but you the reader get a say in just how they get made fun of! Sequel to 'Miss Sue'
1. Paradise to Nightmare

**Mister Stu**

This is a sequel to 'Miss Sue' - I'd strongly suggest you read that one first. Not only because this story won't make complete sense without reading it first, but because, well, I'm proud of it (and a sucker for reviews)

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This was, without a doubt, McGonagall's best vacation. She wasn't in a tropical island paradise with a young masseur tending her back. She wasn't in a cozy mountain lodge drinking hot cocoa while the snow fell outside. She wasn't even in a hotel in some friendly hospitable land.

No, she was at Durmstrang, and she was enjoying every minute. Not an hour went by where some ridiculously contrived and horribly cliché event nearly destroyed the castle, Gary-Stus running every which way. Even more hilarious was the look on Ramius's face, the new headmaster of Durmstrang. While the man sported a stone-set face and pitch-black hair three months ago, the man now had too many grey hairs to count and a perpetual expression that indicated a verge of a psychotic breakdown. She kicked back, laughing as two Stus decided to try to bench press the poles holding up the quidditch hoops.

"That Is IT!"

McGonagall smirked, watching as the Durmstrang headmaster finally seemed to complete lose it.

"That is IT! No more - I want NO MORE! From this moment on, Durmstrang is NO LONGER hosting the Stu competition!" Ramius screamed.

McGonagall's mood instantly vanished. "No..." she breathed.

"That's IT! ALL OF YOU OUT OF HERE!"

"No," she whispered again, in a desperate pain. This... this couldn't be happening. It couldn't! "You _have_ to host," she quickly said to Ramius.

"That's... that's it!" This time, Ramius wasn't speaking from a panicked and nearly-insane tone of voice; this time, it held a crafty glimmer as the man looked at McGonagall.

"No... don't even think it."

"That's right," Ramius said with a newfound grin. "The Gary-Stu contest is moving _back_ to Hogwarts!"

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"Padfoot, you are an idiot!"

"Moony, trust me."

"You're insane. What on earth makes you think I could pull this off?"

"Are you kidding? If you play your cards right, you're a shoe-in!"

"That, Moony, is possibly the most insulting thing you have ever said to me."

"What? That you, with the proper training and instruction, could be a Gary-Stu."

"BE!"

"Sorry, sorry. Could _pretend_ to be a Gary-Stu."

Sirius glared at Remus. "There is no possible reason on this planet that I would pretend to be a Gary-Stu."

"Women throw themselves at Stus..."

"When do we start?"

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"She did what!" Flitwick asked Sprout in a hushed whisper. "Is Ramius ok?"

"As good as he can be, I suppose," Sprout replied in an equally quiet voice. "Medic fixed him up as good as possible, although there are obviously... avenues of life he'll no longer be able to explore."

"I never imagined Minerva would do that, let alone to a fellow school head. Makes you look at her boots in a whole new light."

"Rumor has it he won't be able to even ride a broomstick for at least..."

McGonagall stormed up to them. "At least a year, yes," she said irritably. "Sod got off lucky, if you ask me."

"Yes ma'am," Flitwick, Slughorn, and Hagrid immediately and obediently replied, to the amusement of the female professors.

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"Here we go... 'Guide To Gary-Studom', hardback edition."

"Wait," Sirius said. "I thought you knew what a Gary-Stu was back when you were telling me I'm a shoe in. What's the book for?"

"Well, I know mostly what they are, but some pointers are always good. Like... here, for instance, it says you need long hair - nix your haircut next week."

"Yeah, right."

"I'm serious."

Remus and Sirius both looked around as if daring someone to make a horrible and obvious play on words involving Black's first name. Fortunately, unlike pretty much every fanfiction in existence, it didn't materialize.

"The hair thing doesn't make any sense," Sirius replied. "What happened to the nice clean cut look?"

Remus shrugged. "It's got a picture here. From some muggle movie called 'Lord of the Rings' - his name is Aragorn."

"A muggle quidditch movie?" Sirius protested, but squinted at the picture Remus held up. "He doesn't look much like a 'Lord' to me."

"Well, this is what we're shooting for - so you've pretty much got the look already."

"What?" Sirius said, surprised. "We're going for the 'Fresh From Azkaban' look of someone not utilizing a barber or a bath?"

"Hey, I don't understand it either, but apparently women like their stu's to be rugged unkempt... what's the word? Unkempt Bad-boys?"

"Oh, come on! You're joking. Even _I_ know that women want a guy that is supportive, caring, loving, and even a bit protective of them."

"Then why are Lucius and Snape the most lusted after adults in canon?"

Sirius blinked. "Got me there..."

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McGonagall glared over the trembling attendees of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, sitting terrified at their house tables for the Second Semester feast. The reason they were petrified was quite simple. McGonagall got tired of them mumbling, groaning, or even speaking in outbursts as she gave the torrent of bad news: They were hosting the remainder of the Stu competition, they had transfer students coming from America (which had never actually happened before now,) and the transfers were almost certainly all Mary-Sues that were a mite late for the competition. Finally hitting the end of her frayed nerves, McGonagall resorted to hexing anyone that made a sound.

"Minerva..."

"Yes?" McGonagall said testily, glaring at Flitwick.

"Maybe I should finish up the ceremony?"

McGonagall exhaled, almost like a bull snorting angrily before it charged. "Fine," she said, and took her seat grumpily. Her mood wasn't helped by a collective sigh of relief from the entire ensemble of students. Still, she deserved a good deal of sympathy; she had gone through enough pain dealing with the Mary-Sues, and was now facing another round of the same sort of horrible cliche-driven plot lines.

"Alright," Flitwick said in a jovial voice. "Gary Stus, please enter the hall..."

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"Shouldn't we be at Hogwarts?" Sirius asked, looking at a clock. "The Gary-Stus are supposed to be there... actually, five minutes ago. They're probably about ready to enter the Great Hall."

Remus sighed. "Trust me. Besides, we still need to work on some things. Let me see your walk again."

It was Sirius' turn to sigh. "Ok, here we go..." He stood up straight, and strode dramatically across the room, a sense of power in his steps.

"Good! Good!"

"Can't I just walk normally?"

"No! You have to _stride_. Stu's don't walk, shuffle, meander, wander, or dally. They're men of _action_. Everything has a bold and adventurous purpose, Sirius."

"Heaven forbid I walk to the bathroom with anything less than full dramatic resolve."

"Stus don't have to go to the bathroom, Padfoot."

Padfoot was beginning to think that Moony was going off the deep end.

"Oh, and don't forget the stare. Your eyes have to be..."

"...piercing, striking, and sparkling," Sirius finished. "No other adjectives will do."

"Oh, by the way, you're an idiot."

"Oh, thanks," Sirius said sarcastically.

"No, no!" Remus said, shaking his head. "You're a _Stu_, remember? You have to have a snippy and demolishing comeback at all times! Now, by the way, you're an idiot."

Sirius paused. "Well, your mother's a hamster."

Remus blinked. "We'll have to work on that later..."

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"Our first Stu," Flitwick announced, "is Gerard Schuman." At those words, a twenty something young man walked in, looking rakishly dashing with untamed hair and striking eyes.

"Our second entrance is Jerry Stewart." This time, a twenty something young man entered, looking devilishly roguish with wild locks and piercing eyes.

"Our third student is Larry Loo." Another twenty something man entered, quite roguishly rakish, sporting an uncontrollable thick mane atop sparkling eyes.

"Our fourth is Garith Chu." One more twenty something guy entered the hall, dashingly devilish with unruly hair and eyes that pierced with their striking sparkliness.

The hall collectively blinked. "They all look the same!" Parvati protested.

However, before anyone could say anything else, the door flew open with a loud bang, a large gust of cold air passing dramatically through the Great Hall. There, in the doorway stood an imposing man in black clothing, a mysterious fanfare announcing his arrival. And everyone had to admit, the man was so roguishly devilish and dashingly rakish that he deserved a fifth adjective - 'jaunty', or perhaps even 'stylish'.

"Sirius Black!" McGonagall exclaimed in surprise. At the name, several of the younger students blanched in fear, while most of the younger girls either giggled or blushed.

Sirius nodded brusquely.

"He's so stylishly jaunty," one second year girl whispered to her classmate.

"Sirius, if I were to make a list of who we don't need here right now, your name would be towards the top of the list," McGonagall said loudly.

A few tense silent seconds went by. Remus, who was standing beside Sirius under an invisibility cloak, finally whispered some help in Sirius' ear.

"Snippy comeback, remember?"

Sirius nodded. "Well, Madame McGonagall, if I were to make a list of people that are _stupid, Your_ name would be towards the top of the list."

Remus groaned. "Now I know how Cyrano felt..."

McGonagall glared at Sirius, but didn't say anything more.

"Yes, yes," Flitwick said, trying to move things along before McGonagall's ire would be pushed any further. "And our last Stu... Ronald Weasley."

"WHAT!"

Everyone looked over at Ron, who was a picture of shocked disbelief. "I am not!" he said loudly.

"Your name is right here on the list," Flitwick said, looking at the sheaf of parchment.

"I am _NOT_ a Gary-Stu!"

"Oh, sorry, that's my fault," McGonagall said, standing back up. "I had put him on the list as a sort of a joke. I didn't think anyone would actually buy Ron being able to turn into a Gary Stu."

"Thank you," Ron said indignantly. A few seconds later, a confused look passed his face, and wasn't quite sure anymore whether it was a compliment or an insult.

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"Has the whole school gone insane?" Harry asked Ron, lying on his bed and looking up at the ceiling.

Ron, however, didn't appear to hear his classmate. "I could be a Gary-Stu, couldn't I? I mean, not that I want to - that would be horrible of course, but..."

"Have _you_ gone insane?" Harry asked. "Why do you even care?"

Ron shuffled his feat as he sat at the edge of his bed. "Well, last fall you were kind of a Gary Stu with those muscles, and you have all those uber-Harry stories, and then there's Sirius being one now, and... well... I think I might be too gangly to be a Stu."

Harry was pretty sure Ron wasn't making any sense; not knowing quite what to do, he made a noncommittal sound.

"I mean, I'm important enough to be one, right?" Ron asked, looking over himself in a mirror. "I've done loads of amazing stuff the last six years!"

"Loads," Harry agreed. He didn't have the heart to tell Ron that he was generally too clueless and too annoying to be a Gary-Stu, and had found himself firmly entrenched in the role of comic relief. By now it wasn't even questioned. Snape had the redemption stories, Harry had the 'coming into his own' stories, Draco had the 'turning to the light' stories, and Ron had...

"... Chess," Ron finished, almost as if he could hear Harry's thoughts.

"Oh?"

"Chess! That's it!" Ron said excitedly, beginning to pace back and forth as if he'd solved a particularly vexing murder case and was about to reveal just how it was done. "Ok, how about this... we start a chess tournament in the school. No! Even Better! We get some evil malevolent force - any Slytherin would work - that for some reason is about to take over the school - or better yet, the whole world. Yes, that's it - but here's the thing, it would all hinge on... wait for it... a chess match! If they win, they become the overlord of all mankind. If I win, somehow, despite all odds, I will save everyone from a grim fate! Me, the hero, versus the untold depravity, to rescue the universe from certain doom. I'd come from behind, save everyone, and, well, be the hero. Me, the Hero!"

Harry blinked. "Er, that sounds great, Ron."

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Sirius looked at himself in the mirror and tried not to gag. Honestly, one of the reasons he wanted to get out of Azkaban was so that he wouldn't look like this. And while at first it was an ego boost to have 17 and 18 year old girls eyeing him as he walked along the hallway, now it somewhere bordering both boring and disturbing.

"There you are!" Remus said, walking up to him. "The contest is beginning soon!"

"Explain to me why I'm going through with this again, Moony."

"The women, Padfoot, the women."

"Ah, yes, the women."

"Multitudes of women."

"Multitudes."

"Legions, Padfoot, _Legions_ of fangirls that will lap up every word, every action, every adventurous moment of your breathtaking life."

Sirius rolled his eyes, but followed Remus along the walkways of the castle until they arrived at the Quidditch pitch.

"There you are, Lupin," McGonagall said, waving them over. "Here's your headhunter fee."

"Headhunter fee?" Sirius asked, eyes narrowing.

"Yes, a headhunter fee for signing up an entry to the Stu Contest. 200 galleons."

"Well," Remus said, quickly pocketing the money, "I do believe I should get up in the stands!" Without pushing his luck any further, Moony ran.

"I'm going to kill him," Sirius said angrily.

"Do it after you take a bath, at least," McGonagall sniffed, before turning around to take her seat once again.

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Alright! Assuming you've read 'Miss Sue', you have an idea of what's coming up. Ordinarily I have at least a chapter or two typed in rough draft before I post something on - makes it a lot easier to post regularly even during writer's block. 'Miss Sue' and this story are different; instead, I structure the story around the reviews for each chapter. In 'Miss Sue', readers posted who they wanted to continue on in the contest and who they wanted to get the boot. This story, however, we're looking for something else.

I want everyone reading this to review and post what crossover character you want to appear in the story. One caveat, though - I'm not doing a serious crossover with this (obviously, since this is parody) or looking for usual crossover characters. Generally, the more silly or unusual, the better. In other words, I'd be looking for Oscar the Grouch over Legolas here. Name as many as you want - I'll pick the winner and they will be part of the story from the next chapter on.

Oh, and I'll be trying to do a once-a-week posting on the story, but no promises (it's a lot harder to do a story when you don't have a complete idea what's ever coming up)


	2. Tastes Like Pheasant

**Mister Stu**

The crossover award goes to Gryffens this round.

Oh, and yes, I forgot to put a disclaimer the first chapter. For those of you under the impression I'm a middle aged woman living in England… close, really close.

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Ron and Luna took their places at the announcer's booth... and saw that they weren't alone there.

"Whoa... hello," Ron said, trying to be suave. The reason was clear: the strange visitor was a rather comely 23 year old woman wearing a tank top and shorts.

"Hello," she said, smiling widely. "I'm Deux N. Tandra."

"Deux is such a beautiful name," Ron said, easily whipping out the same line as he used on Periwinkle - and just as easily forgetting that Hermione sitting not twenty feet away from him.

"Are you a Sue?" Luna asked as Ron sat down next to Miss Tandra, obviously picking that seat on purpose since he was sitting at the very edge of his chair so that their legs were up against each other.

"No," Deux replied, smiling.

"So, tell us about yourself," Ron asked eagerly.

"Well, I graduated CAL Tech on a Kung Fu scholarship with a double major in Organic Chemical Engineering and Advanced Cryptology. I interned in the CIA and FBI before taking a scientific liaison position between the NSA and MI6. So, no, I'm not a sue."

This, of course, made no sense to either Luna or Ron. It, however, didn't keep Ron from saying, "Wow..." in a thoroughly awed voice.

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"I am going to kill him," Hermione vented in her seat. However, she saw that she didn't have a very attentive audience. "Hey, you two, stop snogging!"

"Sorry," Harry said, coming up for air. "What were you saying?"

"I'm going to kill Ron!"

"That's nice," Ginny replied, apparently not caring that her best friend was going to kill her brother.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Look!"

Harry followed Hermione's pointing towards the announcer booth and saw what she was talking about.

"Ah! I know who that is!"

"Who?"

"It's... well, I don't know her real name, but... she's a bond chick!"

"Bond chick? Is that a really nasty way of referring to a female banker?"

"No, no. There's this muggle movie, well a series of movies, about this spy. And each movie always has a 'Bond Chick' - a sort of love interest."

"Ah," Hermione said, suddenly understanding. Then she realized that, no, she didn't understand. "What? What is a 'bond chick' doing here?"

"I have no idea," Harry replied, shrugging. "I didn't even know they existed for real, and haven't the faintest clue how one got to Hogwarts."

Ginny frowned. "What's with the glasses?"

"Ah..." Harry smiled. "Well, you see, she's probably one of the nerdy bond chicks."

This struck Hermione the wrong way. Why couldn't the nerds of her universe be stunningly beautiful, with only a pair of cosmetically chosen glasses to indicate their intellectual brawn? Why did she have to have tangled hair, buck teeth, and a body that even Ron have never drooled over?

"But who's that?" Ginny asked, pointing.

Harry looked up again and saw a rotund man wearing a black suit entering the announcer's booth, a greyish-green iguana on his arm. "That's not good..."

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"Ah, Miss Tandra. We meet again."

Deux didn't turn around, feeling cold metal pressed against the small of her back. "Ivanov Dimitriovichovsky Petrov," she spat.

Ron didn't even notice anything odd going on, and was merely hoping the new man wasn't an ex-boyfriend - or worse, a current boyfriend. Luna, however, did notice the gun digging into Deux's back, and immediately jumped to the logical conclusion that the woman was a robotic automaton in the process of being refilled (or perhaps even being emptied - she couldn't recall the exact specifics of the Quibbler article talking about evil robotic automaton maintenance.)

"Perhaps we should start with the games," Petrov said in a thick Russian-accented voice, his iguana flicking its tongue lazily.

"Agreed," Ron said, smiling. He turned on the microphone and said, "Welcome to the Gary Stu competition! Our first competition is the flying contest! And, our first flier is none other than... Sirius Black!"

Sirius stepped onto the field, holding his decrepit broomstick. Granted, it was disguised as a sleek looking broomstick with the lettering 'The Flameshaft of Raudaen' - a name he made up from scratch. But underneath it was actually just an older comet model.

"Sirius Black, please begin," came a booming voice.

Sirius couldn't believe he was in this competition at all, but was more amazed by the strategy Remus had instructed him on. Deciding there was nothing better to do, Sirius decided to follow it. Namely, he did nothing.

"Sirius Black, please begin."

He crossed his arms, standing as tall as he could.

The crowd began to murmur, obviously wondering why he wasn't performing in the contest.

"Why isn't he doing anything?"

"Didn't he know to start?"

"How could he not? The announcement was really loud."

"Then why is he just standing there?"

"I don't know... it's very mysterious."

"I've always liked mysterious men..."

Ron, however, was just baffled. "And... that's the time limit. Thank you, Sirius Black."

"Bulechov!" Petrov said, swearing in made up Russian words. "He is a wily one... no matter, the next contestant will not fare so well!"

Luna looked at the man, clearly wondering why he said that. The reason, however, became clear when the next contestant - Larry Loo - lifted off from the field. Four silverish robotic devices the size of a breadbox, which had been sitting at the four corners of the pitch, sensed the movement and came to life, whizzing through the air.

"What's this..." Ron announced through the microphone. "Apparently some... things... are going to give Larry a challenge."

"Call them fiendish devices," Luna whispered as a suggestion. "Makes it sound more dramatic."

Larry swooped through the air, using his incredible flying skills, but the gizmos kept after him, clearing trying to corner him up against the quidditch hoops. Finally, one of them dove from behind him, a large protrusion coming from the robot's shell, which emitted a large lightning bolt of electricity.

"AGH!" Larry screamed and took evasive action.

"YES!" screamed McGonagall at the top of her lungs, clearly happy at the recent development. "Get him! Get him!"

Larry managed to evade four of the bolts, but two of the devices shot simultaneously and one caught Larry on the leg.

"And... he's going down!" Ron said, watching Larry spiral down towards the ground.

"I hope he's ok," Luna said in a bored voice, not even watching as Larry managed to topple to the ground in at least a semi-controlled manner, unfortunately meaning that he would probably survive into the next round.

"Next up," Ron called out, "Is Garith Chu!"

The crowd cheered, but one got the definite impression they were doing so not out of encouragement for the Stu, but encouragement for the four robots.

"So, Tandra," the evil villain said in a soft whisper, "How should I destroy the next player? I'll let you and your exquisite mind decide."

"I hope you burn in hades," Deux spat.

"Ah, burning. A most excellent idea."

Garith took off, eyeing the four flying devices warily. Oddly enough, they were almost toying with him - they hadn't shot a single bolt his way, but were purposely moving so that he had to dodge and weave crazily all over the field. Garith had the sudden idea - quite rightly - that they were merely toying with his life.

Finally, the four shot long spurts of fire, forming a rectangle that Garith had no choice but to fly through, toasting him (and his robes) the slightest bit. Every ten seconds or so, the process would repeat, the rectangle narrowing until Garith was hugging the broom tightly lest he burn alive.

The flying robots lined up one final time and Garith readied himself. However, instead of fire, each of the four launched a large bucket's worth of water his way.

"Agh!" Garith was taken completely by surprise, clearly expecting another bout of flames, and the water hit him straight on and knocked him clean off the broomstick.

"You monster, Petrov!" Deux breathed.

"We're all monsters," Petrov replied in his usual way of trying to say something profound that didn't make much sense. "The only difference is that I don't deny it."

"Er, Petrov?" Luna asked. "I don't suppose you could have the robots clip the twigs of the next Stu's broom one at a time?"

Petrov looked at Luna with a proud expression on his face. "Of course, little girl, that's an excellent idea."

"Luna!" Ron whispered to her. "What are you doing?"

"I think it'd be fun to watch."

"But... it's dangerous!"

Luna shrugged, pointing to Garith on the ground, twitching from a rather painful fall. The message was obvious: the man didn't need her help to be dangerous.

"Fair enough," Ron said, shrugging. "And the next contestant is... Gerard Schuman!"

Gerard was actually shaking the slightest bit, prompting a few jeers from the crowd. Still, he was a Stu, and thus was capable of planning out far-reaching strategies and brilliant tactics to defeat almost any situation. So, his basic plan was rather simple. He would take off and fly as high as possible, doing his best to avoid whatever those blasted automatons sent his way. The goal was to get up into the clouds, which he would then leap from the broomstick, use his animagus abilities to turn into a pheasant, fly to the ground, and finally reform to a (hopefully) applauding crowd.

As soon as he jumped on the broomstick, he rocketed straight up into the air. The four metalic devices followed, and Gerard soon saw them trying to clip off twigs from the tail. Little by little, the broomstick lost power as each bit of wood was trimmed away, until after half of them were clipped off and the broom was barely able to inch upward.

"Come on..." Gerard said, eyeing the misty clouds just a few feet away.

Snip

The broomstick trembled, and actually fell an inch. Gerard, if he had been anything less than the full Stu that he was, would probably panic. Instead, he climbed up the shaft of the broomstick, his foot on the tip, and jumped as high as he could. At the height of the jump, he morphed into his animagus form, hoping he was within the clouds and wouldn't be seen by the robots.

Fortunately, he was.

Unfortunately, his whole plan relied on the robots thinking, Wow, suddenly the person vanished and all that's here now is a simple pheasant. We sure lost him, didn't we?

Garith's avian eyes widened comically as one of the robots shot a bolt of electricity at him.

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"Any idea what's going on up there?" Flitwick asked, squinting at the sky.

"Nope," McGonagall said in a bored voice. "But I hope they finish quick, I want to get this over with."

Zap

"Did you hear that?"

ZAP

Both of them heard it this time, and saw where it was coming from. A shrieking and wildly spasming bird in the sky was getting put through the wringer. On the fourth direct bolt to its rear end, Birdy-Stu gave out one pathetic squawk and fell from the sky, oddly enough landing on McGonagall's lap.

McGonagall looked like she had a moment of indecisiveness, unsure what she was supposed to do. After several seconds, she motioned for one of the robots to fly down to her. The crowd leaned forward in anticipation, wondering what McGonagall was going to do to address this most recent event, how she would no doubt reprimand the robot for killing off one of the contestants, no matter how she personally felt about them. Finally, she spoke.

"Medium-well, please."

The gizmo extended an arm, picked up the ex-Stu, and toasted it with a liberal application of flame while McGonagall conjured up a plate and some silverware.

"Ok, that was unusual," Ron said, trying to decide how to feel about what just happened.

"Mwuhahaha!"

"That's a formidable evil laugh, Mr. Petrov," Luna said in a thoroughly objective way.

Duex looked at Luna like she was insane - in other words, like most of the Hogwarts residents did.

"Why, thank you my dear," Petrov said, stroking his iguana.

"And," Ron announced, trying to distract any of the sick-minded readers from dwelling on that last sentance, "Our last contestant is Jerry Stewart!"

Jerry Stewart didn't seem to know what to do; the act of watching one of his kin being roasted and eaten by the headmistress obviously took his toll on him. After a few seconds, he stood as proud as possible, trying to imitate what Sirius had done at the start of the contest. The crowd, however, was definitely not buying it.

"You wimp!"

"When Sirius did it, he was being mysterious! You're just scared, you nancy-haired poppinfresh!" Ginny screamed loudly.

"Whoa, Ginny, calm down," Harry said, a bit alarmed.

Ginny didn't hear him and screamed, "You're pathetic, you... you Poulet Jaune!"

When Ginny sat back down, Harry asked in a slightly frightened voice, "When did you learn French, Ginny?"

McGonagall looked at the scene in satisfaction, before walking over to the announcers booth and speaking into the microphone. "That is the end for today's contest, everyone return to the castle. And I'd like to give a special thanks to Ivanov Dimitriovichovsky Petrov!"

Petrov blushed and bowed, completely unused to being so universally appreciated (well, the Stus were glaring at him, but nobody really noticed.)

"Everone meet back here after lunch, and we will continue on to the second round. Thank you."

"Who's that?" Hermione asked, pointing down onto the pitch.

"Who's who?" Harry asked back. The pitch was half full of students walking back to the castle - how was he supposed to know who she was talking about?

"White robe, far left, where Larry Loo landed."

Harry looked where she described, and indeed, there was what looked like a sixth year girl. However, instead of the black Hogwarts robes, she was wearing pure white ones, and was bending over the fallen Stu. A few seconds later, she stood back up and fled.

"He's... he's healed," Hermione said, amazed. Sure enough, Larry was up and walking within a few seconds.

"Mary Sue," Harry whispered, eyes narrowing. "Don't worry, McGonagall will get her."

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Alright - great suggestions so far for crossovers - keep 'em coming! Also, although the next chapter or two probably won't have more than a few characters added in, the later chapters things are going to get hectic... ;-)


	3. Yet another black leather fanfic

**Mister Stu**

The crossover award goes to "**give em enough rope"** for round 2.

For those of you under the impression I'm a middle aged woman living in England… close, really close.

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"Excuse me, but who in Circe's left nostril are you?"

"Ughn... quieter... headache."

Rachel and Diana, two second year Hufflepuff girls, looked at each other in curiosity. "Who are you?" Diana asked again, this time in a softer voice.

"Ughn... where am I?"

"Useless," Diana said, shaking her head.

"Think he's a Stu?" Rachel whispered.

"No... can't be - he smells."

"Yeah, just like my parents liquor cabinet. I think it's bourbon."

"Bourbon?" the man asked, suddenly listening.

"No, you get no bourbon," Diana said, slapping away the man's hand. "Honestly! Now, what's your name?"

"Bond... James Bond... why does my head hurt? Did you drug me?"

Diana rolled her eyes. "It's called a hangover. How much did you drink?"

"Hangover?" Bond asked as if he'd never even heard of the word before. "I only had 23 shots before I passed out on top of the brothel worker turned spy th... I mean, ughn."

"Twe... twenty three!" Rachel immediately turned to Diana. "We need to get him to Nurse Pomfrey."

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"Are you sure you can't stick around awhile longer, Ivanov?" McGonagall asked.

"No, my dear," Petrov said in a saddened voice. "Unfortunately, my master plan of melting the polar ice cap needs me. You can't do those sorts of things from anywhere but a secret lair."

"Secret lair?" McGonagall said, smiling. "Why didn't you say so earlier? We can set you up here at Hogwarts, and you can do all the scheming that you want!"

"Thank you for the offer, my lovely McGonagall, but unf... I say, who are you?"

McGonagall turned around to see that they were no longer alone in her office. Three dark-grey uniformed officers with jackboots and red armbands were standing at attention.

"Frau McGonagall?"

"Yes?" she replied primly.

"We are taking over the school. I trust there will be no objections?"

There were a tense few seconds at the news that Nazis were taking over Hogwarts - not exactly the most obvious and expected turn of events by any means. Finally, after a few seconds, McGonagall broke out into a grin and said, "Thank you!"

"I do not c... excuse me?" The German officer clearly expected a rebuke from the woman, not grateful acceptance.

"You don't understand," she replied with the first joyous smile she'd had in quite awhile. "I've been trying to get someone - anyone - to come take over this school since the Gary-Stu content rode in. And who better to assume the torment and fire of that position than the darkest avatars of history? By all means, take over! I cede all administrative functions of this debauchery to you!"

------------------------------------------------------------

"Nazis are taking over the school," McGonagall whispered to Flitwick at the staff table.

"Hey, now," Flitwick protested. "That's a very politically incorrect way to say that."

"Hm?"

"If you don't like someone, that's no excuse to whip out fascist imagery. It degrades what actually happened in Europe those days."

"No, no, you don't understand. _Actual_ Nazis are taking over the school."

"Dear heavens," Flitwick breathed. "Why are you so happy, though? That's horrible news!"

"You really don't see what's coming, do you?" McGonagall said, unable to keep a smile from her face. "Do you remember the outrage and retaliation we saw ten years ago when we tried to make curfew one hour earlier? How one professor actually ended up in Mungos with a tea kettle for a head? Now imagine what will happen when these _muggles_ try to impose some strict code upon the students."

With extremely ironic timing, the doors to the Great Hall opened, three people walking inside. At seeing who two of the people were, McGonagall nearly couldn't contain herself.

The first person was rather non-descript - a worn brown leather jacket with an equally beaten hat, giving the man the appearance of someone almost out of a western movie.

"Ah, Herr Jones!" the new headmaster said. "We've been looking forward to your appointment. You may begin teaching history to the students here at once." The man nodded and parted, and if one looked closely they could see the oddest thing under the man's jacket: a bullwhip. "As for you two, I have no idea why you are here."

They were, quite simply, the reason McGonagall was struggling not to roll on the floor laughing. It was Fred and George, although it was rather hard to tell who they were at first glance. One had died his hair dark brown while the other had gone the opposite direction and now sported blond locks of hair. It was quite strange to see a Weasley with something other than red hair, and McGonagall thought it looked hideously hilarious.

"Gutentag, Herr Headmaster!" Fred said in a horrible parody of a German accent. "I am Frederik Von Veasley, and this is my esteemed brother George Von Veasley."

The headmaster raised an eyebrow, his uniform rustling as he leaned forward in his chair. "And what, pray, might you be here for?"

"To teach!"

"And to discipline the young impressionable students."

"To crush their spirits."

"And mold them into proud distinguished young men and women."

The headmaster was clearly pleased by the words. "Though we unfortunately do not have any more positions currently open, we wish to keep you both on retainer here upon the faculty." The man pulled two sets of keys from his pocket and handed one to each of them. "These are to your own invidividual quarters as well as to the Faculty Lounge, Prefect Baths, Restricted Sections, House Commons, and Castle Maintenance rooms. We wish you a proper welcome to this castle."

George and Fred were visibly struggling not to either grin or let their lower lips drop. McGonagall lost it and gave a large aborted laugh that sounded like a possessed hiccup.

"Frau McGonagall," the headmaster remonstrated. "I am trying to talk to Herrs Frederic and George."

"My apologies," she managed in a voice choked with amusement.

------------------------------------------------------------

"Excuse me, what are you doing?" Hermione asked upon seeing someone in _her_ study room within the library. "Who are you? You look awfully familiar."

"I'm Professor Jones," the man answered, and turned his back to her, apparently studying the walls on the other side of the room.

"Professor? What do you teach?"

"History. I'm rather busy..."

"What are you doing?" Many things had changed over the years, but Hermione's nosiness had not.

The man sighed. "Miss...?"

"Hermione Granger."

Before the professor could say anything, a third person joined them in the room, walking the slightest bit awkwardly - as if he weren't completely with it at the moment.

Finally, Hermione placed the the faces. "I know who you two are!" She pointed to the first man in beat up leather clothing. "You're Indiana Jones. And you, you're James Bond!"

"Indeed, miss...?"

"Hermione Granger."

James looked around. "So what are we all doing in this room? This can't possibly have anything to do with the plot."

Indiana's eyes widened a bit. "You know about... the plot?"

"Of course, I've been trying to stop it for nearly three weeks now."

"You're trying to stop the Relic of Stonehenge from being unearthed?"

"What? No, I'm trying to stop Petrov from melting the polar ice caps."

"Oh." A few seconds went by. "That's not a very good plot."

James kicked back, sitting on the ground. "You're telling me. But it beat the one where I had to fight up in space with moon lasers."

"Harry? What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be snogging with Ginny?"

Harry closed the door behind him, the room beginning to get a bit crowded with four people. "Hard to explain..." he said in a soft voice.

"Moon lasers?" Indiana laughed. "Sounds better than fighting nazis at least."

"Oh no," James replied. "Cherish every moment you've got. The Nazis were a nice pure-evil-enemy you could rally against - same thing with the communists. But ever since glastnost, things haven't been the same."

"Oh?" Indiana said, his hands probing the wall.

"Yeah, now we have to battle rogue nationalists and other pathetic villians. I mean, anyone could get wrapped up in a spy movie where I was trapped in Soviet Russia. Who cares if some weirdo detonates a nuclear weapon in orbit simply to steal a bunch of money from the Bank of England? I mean, if they were going to _sell_ the nuke, maybe people would care, or use it to wipe a city off the map. But pulling off a bank heist? I'm surprised people weren't rooting for the villains against me!"

Indiana jumped back, a surprised look on his face. He leaned forward and pressed a section of wall with both of his hands, which was rewarded by the bricks crumbling to reveal a dark staircase leading downward.

"Any torches in this place?" Indiana asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes and cast Lumos.

"Neat trick," James said, and the quartet descended down the stairs.

------------------------------------------------------------

"Ok, that's it. Where is everyone?" Ron demanded.

"We're all here," Luna replied evenly. "The stus are ready, and the crowd is waiting."

"No, but... ok. Where are Petrov, Deux, or Bond? Where's Indiana Jones? Or the Nazis for that matter. It's like the school is suddenly back to normal - well, normal with some Stus."

"Mr. Weasley," McGonagall remonstrated in a sharp voice, "We're not waiting for muggles before we continue this competition."

"Ok, the next contest is... oh give me a break! This can't be right!"

"What?" Luna asked. Ron showed her the paper with the contest name on it; she blinked and slowly smiled.

"I'm not reading this. This has to be some sort of joke!"

"Ronald Weasley!" McGonagall angrily said. "I want to get this over with so I can get back to my quarters."

"Ok, folks, the next contest is... black leather pants wearing."

A shocked silence fell over the crowd, followed by quite a number of women cheering.

------------------------------------------------------------

Sirius was spending his time trying not to think about how he looked. Even more importantly, he was trying not to fall over, mostly because he could only bend his knees halfway due to the tightness of his pants. At least the other Stus were just as bad off; all four of them were pretty much dressed up like pieces of meat for fangirl appreciation.

"Um, why are we doing this?" he asked the other three men.

"Because we're stus."

"But... but why are Stus like this? I mean, I'd been told all my life that women wanted someone sensative and loving, so why are we getting ready to parade around in black leather?"

"If women wanted someone sensative," one of the Stus replied, not knowing he was echoing Remus, "Why would they lust after Snape or Lucius so much?"

Sirius sighed. "No. I'm not going to do it."

"What? How can you not? It's a 'Black Leather Pants Wearing' contest."

"I don't care," Sirius said angrily. He cast an enlarging spell on the leather fabric, letting the clothes expand until they were a nice and loose fit. "Ohhhhhh... that feels _so_ much better."

"Everyone," Ron said in a rather unenthusiastic voice, "Our first contestant is Garith Chu..."

Garith smirked at Sirius before walking out onto the pitch, greeted by a chorus of wolf-whistles from the female half of the crowd.

"Shake it!" Ginny shouted, surprising many of those around her. "Yeah, baby!"

------------------------------------------------------------

"So what are we doing here?" Harry asked Hermione as they followed the two men down the dark staircase.

"We're looking for the Relic of Stonehenge," Hermione explained.

"No, I mean, why are _we_ here? Shouldn't we be out in the stands watching the Stus?"

"You'd really want to?" Hermione sniffed. "Besides, the Relic of Stonehenge is a very potent artifact, and it was be extremely bad if it fell into the wrong hands, even if they were muggle ones."

"Oh? What does this relic do?"

"A prophesy..."

"Oh, no," Harry groaned. "Another one? Why can't there ever be a story or plot in fanfiction that _doesn't_ involve a prophesy?"

"Ok, ok," Hermione said. "There's this... legend?"

"Better," Harry grudgingly said.

"There's this legend that Stonehenge wasn't formed, like commonly thought, by drunken druid pranksters."

"Then how was it formed?" Harry was amazed to find one of the bedrocks of his faith – that Stonehenge was created by inebriated druidic hooligans – turned out to be so hopelessly misplaced.

"The legend said that whenever someone wielded the Relic of Stonehenge," Hermione continued, unaware of the crisis of conscience her words were inflicting upon her friend, "they would be able to raise a legion of spirit warriors from the ground. The rocks at Stonehenge are what's called a 'Witness Seal', something that's left over from when someone does just that."

"Sounds like a crock to me," Harry replied.

"Legends and myths always have some basis in reality," Indiana said, repeating the same cliché phrase that had justified far too many horrible movies, leading them onto the landing of what looked to be a medieval torture chamber.

"Ok, that sounds like a crock to me, too," Harry shot back.

"Then what do you call this, boy?"

Harry's eyes widened as Indiana turned to face him, holding a very unusual artifact. It was almost like a golden sculpture of an apple, but it had a face inlaid on it that squinted at him in deliberative scrutiny.

"I've found it... I think it's about time we purge Hogwarts of some of its unwelcome visitors," Indiana said, smiling widely.

------------------------------------------------------------

"Look over there, Minerva."

"Filius, I'm a lonely woman. Don't you dare take my gaze from black leather unless it's something important."

"It is, headmistress."

McGonagall sighed and looked where the deputy headmaster was pointing. It was a formation of large rocks jutting out from the ground nearby the great lake. "Huh. Were there any drunken druidic pranksters here last night?"

Flitwick didn't get a chance to answer. White apparitions emerged from the ground epicenter of the rocks and swarmed towards the quidditch field. McGonagall's eyes widened, but it was clear that the new visitors weren't after the staff or students in the stands. On the contrary, they went straight for the Stus on the pitch.

"Over here!" cried a loud voice; the same woman who had rejuvenated the Stus after the last task was standing above a series of runestones. "It's a spirit ward; they won't be able to get to you!"

The four contestants didn't take very long to come to a decision and broke out into a run towards the strange white-robed woman. Sirius quickly dashed the length of field, surprised that he was running faster than the other three - he wasn't that much of an athelete, truth be told.

When he reached the woman and turned around, he could see why; the other Stus weren't even really able to fully run. It was more of a pathetic limping lurch as their legs fought to bend against their constraining clothing.

Larry Loo had particularly tight pants, and wasn't able to make it even off of the pitch before the spirits caught up. "AGH!" he screamed, the youth and vitality being sucked from his body by formless phantoms until he was tossed to the ground, a withered lifeless shell.

Garith Chu managed to make it (Sirius suspected the strain ripped a crack in the back of the leather pants, thus freeing the man up for more regular running, but he wasn't about to check) but Jerry Stewart was caught just as he was diving for the edge of the barrier. When Jerry looked back up from the ground, the other Stus recoiled slightly; the man looked like he had aged twenty years. While it was better than Larry Loo's fate, it certainly wasn't pretty.

"Excellent!" McGonagall cheered.

"Sorry about that," Indiana said, walking up to the staff stands, Hermione, Harry, and Bond in tow. "I told them to go after the unwelcome visitors - I assumed that would be the Nazis, not your contestants."

"That's quite alright!" McGonagall replied instantly.

"But... where are the Nazis?" Hermione asked.

McGonagall shrugged. "Haven't seen them in a few hours."

------------------------------------------------------------

Actually, three nazi officers were rather close - only a thicket of trees separated them from the stands where McGonagall was sitting. Sweating profusely from effort, they were digging a hole next to Greenhouse 4.

"What's that odor?"

"Smells like sewage."

"Don't mind it. We're at the right spot."

"I thought the Relic of Stonehenge would be inside the castle?"

"Fool," the commandant said. "That's a trinket to distract Herr Jones. No..."

The shovel shivered as it made a large supernatural humming noise from hitting something buried within the dirt. "No," the man continued, bending down on a knee to brush away soil from the glowing white orb under the ground. "_This_ is what we're after."

"What is it?"

"Oh, come on, you should know by now. The letter..."

The other two squinted, obviously thinking. "Ah! I know! It's..."

"_Sshhhh_," the commandant whispered back. "It's no fun if we just give it away!"

"But... can't we say?"

"No!" The leader gave a dramatic backhanded slap to the upstart Nazi. "We have said enough already!"

------------------------------------------------------------

Wow... Long chapter!

Anyway, keep the ideas/reviews coming! I'm probably going to use two of them the next chapter.

Few quick notes about the ideas, though. First, make sure to keep the ideas relatively universal. I'd prefer to avoid ones that very few people would get the jokes (most people have seen at least one Indiana Jones movie and one James Bond movie.) And second, I'm not really looking for which ones have a 'Stu' in them. I'm looking more for a ridiculous contrast/pairing with the HP world (hope that makes sense)


	4. Yoda Ahoy

**Mister Stu**

Chapter 4: Yoda Ahoy!

If there was any doubt after the chapter name, the Crossover awards go to Bohemian Rhapsody for the pirate-genre idea, and both Give Em Enough Rope and Slytherin Love Goddess for the Star Wars/Yoda idea.

-----------------

**DUHN!**

Harry jerked awake to the sound of a loud electric guitar chord-hit.

**DUHN! DUHN! DUHN!**

"What the...?"

**DUHN! DUHN! DUHN!**

Harry rubbed his eyes, and looked at the alarm clock. 3 AM!

**DUHN! DUHN! DUHNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN**

"What _is_ that?" Dean whined.

"Eye of the Tiger," Seamus groaned.

Harry realized that Seamus was right, and sure enough a rock beat started while the electric guitar played loud chord hits.

"Someone watching Rocky?" Seamus asked Harry.

"Where's Ron?" Dean asked, looking at Weasley's empty bed.

"Wish I could sleep through this," Seamus said, looking at Neville softly snoring away.

Harry lead the three of them down into the commons, which was now actually becoming crowded; Pajama clad Gryffindors lined the edges of the room, all watching the person in the center of the room with a massive amount of scorn.

"Ron?" Harry asked, not believing what he was seeing. There Ron was, playing chess on the coffee table, with the loud Rocky training music playing in the background.

"Bishop to E5... Eye of the Tiger... Pawn takes knight B6... Eye of the Tiger... Eye of the Tiger..."

"Ron, you need to stop now," Harry said. "If you wake Hermione, she's going to come down here and..."

"... kill you," Hermione finished, glaring through sleepiness at her boyfriend, though the look on her face said that it might soon be ex-boyfriend.

Ron didn't bother answering them, and merely pointed at the wall where a sheaf of parchment was pinned.

Notice to Students:

Curfew has been suspended indefinitely,

as have quiet-hours within the commons.

Anyone complaining about this new policy

will be subject to a warning, and detentions

on subsequent infractions.

- Professor on Retainer Frederick Von Veasley

- Professor on Retainer George Von Veasley

Harry read the note aloud, each face in the commons growing dour. Finally, they all looked at Hermione. The unspoken thought echoed through the room: she was his boyfriend, so she should be the one to fix it.

She angrily snorted, but walked up to Ron. "Come on, let's go back up to my room."

"Not now," Ron replied. "I'm training."

Hermione rolled her eyes, and whispered a bit into Ron's ear.

"Really?"

Hermione nodded.

Ron looked one last time at the chess set, and followed Hermione upstairs. The commons let out a collective sigh of relief.

"Mmmmmmm... Harry, do you want to come up to my room?" Ginny asked, sneaking up behind him and wrapping her arms around him.

"Ehnn, not tonight," Harry replied.

"Mmmm, come on, Harry, I know you want..."

Harry jumped a bit as Ginny became rather _forward_ with her hands, and said, "Er, no, I... I have a headache."

Ginny let out a frustrated sound, and went back up to her room.

"Something wrong, Harry?" Dean asked, watching what had just happened. "I mean, correct me if I'm wrong, but Ginny just asked you..."

"I know, Dean," Harry sighed. "Hard to explain."

-----------------

"It's... this isn't right. This is a lot bigger than the one we dug up from the ground."

"No, it's the same orb," the commandant answered. "It's simply grown." He looked around, seeing that if it grew much bigger, it wouldn't be able to be kept secret much longer. "We need to move this thing someplace more secure."

"The dungeons?" one asked.

"Good idea."

They carried the orb, now large enough that a single person would struggle to handle its bulk, in through the main castle doors and down the main staircase into the dungeons.

"Agh!" one shouted, nearly dropping the sphere. The reason was clear - for a split second, the artifact flashed an extremely bright orange, almost as if it'd turned into a small model of the sun.

"Careful!" the commandant remonstrated.

"Can I help you?"

"And who are you?" the commandant replied back, not even looking over at the new guest.

"Draco Malfoy."

"Yes, Draco, we're looking for a place to hide out the next few days."

"Slytherin commons," Draco replied back. "You'll be safe there."

The commandant nodded, prompting one of the soldiers to say, "Oh, come on! Someone has to have figured what's going on by now!"

The sphere pulsed again, flashing bright orange.

-------------------

"Is that... we didn't invite Durmstrang, did we?" Ron asked as he took his seat in the announcer's booth.

"What? Why?"

"Isn't that Durmstrang's boat?"

Luna and McGonagall looked to where Ron was pointing. Sure enough, a ship was sailing along the Great Lake towards the castle, but there were obvious differences between it and the vessel that arrived 3 years earlier, the largest being that the main sail was black and had a skull and crossbones on it.

"Well I'll be," McGonagall said, watching as the boat cast anchor and a horde of pirates disembarked, many carrying barrels or large sacks - obviously intending to resupply their ship. A few minutes later, a rather formidable man walked up the stands to face them while the crew briskly walked to the castle; he wore a rather flamboyant black outfit with a ruffled bloodred shirt, and his right eye was covered in a black eye patch, and he had a rather... interesting creature on his shoulder.

"That is the _ugliest_ parrot I've ever seen," Ron blurted out.

"Not a parrot am I."

"Ok, that's the ugliest _talking_ parrot I've ever seen."

"I think he's cute," Luna said. "What's your name?"

"Yoda, my name is," the furry green creature said, before hopping off the pirate's shoulder onto Luna's lap.

"Problems with grammer, you have," Ron said sarcastically, his eyes rolling at the sight of Luna petting the top of Yoda's head.

McGonagall, however, wasn't bothering watching the three of them, and was still looking at the pirate. "What brings you here?" she asked.

"Shore leave. We've been plundering for three months now with no port."

"Ah, well, you're welcome here. In fact, if you want to watch, we've got a bit of a competition going on..."

"ARGH!"

The two turned to see Lee Jordan, Seamus Finnigan, and Dean Thomas grinning wildly from the stairs leading into the announcer's box.

"Is there something you need?" McGonagall asked primly.

"Yarrrgh, the sea hag speaks! Yarrrggghhh!" Dean replied.

McGonagall blinked. It wasn't too often the students called her a sea-hag, after all.

"Avast, mateys!" Seamus called out.

"Thar she blows!" Lee agreed racously. "Shiver me timbers!"

"Your timbers be shivered?" Yoda asked.

"Um, what are you three doing?" the pirate asked the three boys.

"Oh, ignore them," McGonagall said darkly. "They think they're talking like pirates. They're really just bound for detention."

"Yargh!" Dean called out, squinting comically with one eye before leading the trio of mock pirates back down to their seats.

Ron was busy trying to ignore everything around him, and loudly said through the announcer's microphone, "Welcome to the third round of the contest. Today's challenge is the Breakdown Competition. Luna?"

Luna took her eyes off the hairy green creature she was petting and observantly said, "Huh?"

"What's the Breakdown Competition?"

"Ah," Luna said, and shifted a bit in her seat. "Well, at some point in every Gary-Stu's life, they hit a breakdown moment and confide about all the emotions that have been roiling around within them to their love interest."

"They have emotions roiling around within them?" Ron asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Yes, they're not just unkempt badboys," Luna replied, "They're also sensative. Our first contestant is Garith Chu! Oh, and Ginny Weasley has volunteered to help with this task."

Ginny and Garith walked onto the pitch from opposite sides, stopping when they were a few feet away from each other. Garith had a troubled look on his face, obviously struggling to keep things together.

"Garith, what's wrong?"

"I... Ginny..." Garith said, theatrically not coming up with any words.

"Garith, please, you can tell me."

"It's... Ginny, I can't." It was clear that Garith was seconds away from either an emotional breakdown or a psychological crackup.

Ginny wrapped an arm around him, cradling him to her, letting him burrow his face into her shoulder. "It's ok, Garith... it's ok..."

"I'm sorry," Garith said, now beginning to sob into her robes.

"Don't apologize," Ginny replied, running a hand calmingly through his hair.

A minute went by before Garith softly said, "It was my fault."

"No it wasn't," Ginny replied, just as softly. Apparently she, unlike anyone in the stands, knew what the heck Garith was talking about. "You couldn't have known that would happen."

"She's dead now, Ginny... dead because of me."

"No," Ginny said, cradling him tighter. "She's dead because of Voldemort - he's the one that killed her, not you."

"I... I..."

"Sshhhh, it's ok," Ginny shushed gently.

A moment went by before Garith softly whispered, "Thank you, Ginny..."

The two seperated, followed by cheers from the female half of the crowd and blank confused looks from the male half.

"That was good," Luna said. "Very sensative."

"Now, wait a minute," Ron said, almost taking offense. "That wasn't someone being sensative - that was them being whiny!"

"Whiny?" Luna asked, shocked.

"Sensative isn't dwelling on your _own_ emotions, it's being empathetic to the emotions of _others_. If bad-boy Chu down there was sensative, he would've seen that Ginny was dealing with issues and comforted _her_, not whined about how Voldemort killed some girl. Sure, everyone needs a hug now and then, but isn't the point of a sensative person their empathy? Not their narcism?"

Luna stared at the boy for a few seconds before dismissively saying, "Bah."

"I'm serious!"

"Ron, you are the _least_ qualified male on the planet to offer knowledge on sensative men."

Ron crossed his arms poutingly, sending a very clear (and sensative) message to Luna that she would be doing the remainder of the announcing today.

Luna shrugged, and said, "Next up is Sirius Black!"

Sirius had to partly agree with Ron on this one. After all, he'd spent over a decade in Azkaban - so it's not like he didn't have the moral authority to do the breakdown - but he grimmaced watching Garith the last five minutes. He walked up to Ginny, trying to put out of mind that she was assuming the role of his love interest, despite her being in a relationship with his god-son and her being somewhere between a half and a third of his age.

"Ginny," he said softly by the way of a greeting.

"Sirius," she replied back. He took hold of her hand and guided them to sit next to each other on the grass.

"I'm glad to see you again... I was worried about you."

"Worried about me?" Ginny asked with a bit of surprise.

"Pre-NEWTs," Sirius replied, putting an arm around her. "I remember how nasty the first year after the OWLs was, and... your last email to me seemed pretty stressed."

"Yeah," Ginny said, leaning into him a bit. "McGonagall's being a right pain... the NEWTs aren't for over a year!" Then, as if suddenly realizing that _he_ was supposed to be the focus of this, she said, "It can't be as bad as Azkaban, though."

"Not much could be," Sirius said with a small smile. "But, you see, the thing is... imagine how good I felt when I got out... now imagine how good it will feel after the NEWTs are done with next year."

Ginny smiled, but then pushed it away as she realized that he'd once again reflected things back to her. "You must have a whole lot of built up rage and anger about being locked up for 13 years for something you didn't do..."

"At first, yes," Sirius said softly. "But these last years, getting to see Harry grow up into a man... getting to watch you go through some of the best years of your life... why would I want to dwell on Azkaban when there are a lot better memories to remember? All that matters now is that I'm here, and that I can be with you and Harry. And, well, I didn't really have much chance to say so before, but the two of you have really made me proud."

Ginny's lips pursed, and she was obviously trying to decide whether to hug the man or pummel him.

Luna ignored Ron, who was laughing himself silly, and said, "Thank you, Sirius Black. That was certainly... interesting."

"Indeed," McGonagall said, obviously smoldering in a bit of ire. After all, it didn't bode for a good day when you were called a 'Sea-Hag' and publicly chewed out about teaching methods in front of the entire school within five minutes of each other.

"Our last contestant," Luna said, "Is Jerry Stewart."

Jerry walked out to Ginny, but due to the phantoms from the previous task, he was even older than Sirius.

"He looks too old," Ron said, finally joining the announcing.

"Not at all," Luna replied.

"Ok, he's, what? 45, 46 years old?"

"That's nothing."

"And my _little_ sister is _16_."

"Have you ever heard of a muggle named Sean Connery?"

Ron's face lit up with comprehension. "Ah... never mind."

However, before Ginny could worm out from the third Stu the problems that had been plaguing him, they were interrupted by an errant pirate.

"Where's the rum, old man?"

"Old man?" Jerry asked angrily.

"Where... is... the... rum?" the pirate repeated slowly.

"I don't have hearing problems!"

"Then why don't you answer the question? Where is the rum?"

"I remember your question - you didn't need to repeat it!" Jerry said, rising to his feet angrily. "I'm not senile!"

The pirate backed away a step, clearly not expecting so much resistance from this middle-aged Stu.

Jerry was about to close the distance between them, perhaps duel the poor sap for show, when he realized that he was supposed to be in a breakdown competition. "It's... it's just... that's the question my dad asked before he was eaten by a dragon," he said in a voice about ready to break down in sobs.

"Your father's last words were... 'where's the rum'?" Ginny asked in a confused voice as the pirate took the opportunity to leave the psychotic pair.

"Yes... his... d-dying words," the man sobbed, quickly burrowing his head uninvited into her chest.

"But... he wasn't dying, was he? I mean, if he died from a sickness I could see that, but he was eaten by a dragon - that's a pretty quick way to go..." Ginny said, confused. "So they weren't his dying words, just the words before he died, right?"

"He... he had a terminal illness, er, of the left intestinal tract," Jerry said, giving the impression that he was just making all of this up anyway.

"Ah," Ginny said, catching on. "You pour soul..." She cradled him, but the crowd started booing.

"Hey!" Jerry shouted, angrily standing up. "Don't boo me just because some plague-infested, drunk, imbred sea-rat can't fi... urgh... h-help..."

Everyone watched as the pirate, who obviously didn't like being called such filthy names, stabbed Jerry in the back, thus filling the quota of a single Stu dying at each stage of the competition. However, as a complete surprise, he picked Ginny up and tossed her over his shoulder, carrying her back to the ship as either a spoil or a prisonner. It wasn't so much a shock that they were abducting someone as such - the crowd had seen several pirates going back to the ship with people tossed over their shoulders - but the fact that this one had chosen a Weasley.

Ron raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

"Shouldn't we help?" Luna asked.

"Oh, no," Ron said, shaking his head. "He's getting himself into this mess - he can get himself out!"

-------------------------

"Argh!"

"What was that, cap'n?"

"Argh!"

The first mate raised an eyebrow.

"Avast! Furl the bedsheets and shore the broadsides! Yarrgghhh!"

"Ok... you're not making any sense, cap'n. Have you been in Davey Jones' locker?"

"I know I'm not making sense," the captain replied. "But do our hosts honestly think that's the way I talk?"

"I've heard legends about the 'Famous Grey-Beard'. I suppose some of it could be what you sound like."

"No, no - those idiots up there think _all_ pirates talk like that."

"Yarghh."

"Yarghh, indeed."

"Still, they're being awfully hard on the women up there."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, Cap'n. All the digs on the Stus, and what women say they want, and what they really mean. I mean, it seems like the guys are given a free pass."

"Well, the author's male."

"Are you saying he's sexist?"

"No, no," Grey-beard said, smiling. "I'm saying that as much as women hate Gary-Stus and Mary-Sues, it's _nothing_ to how much men hate reading them. You do know what a Gary-Stu is, don't you?"

"He's a handsome, intelligent, roguish hero."

"No, no... I mean, what is he? Why was he invented? And why were Sues invented?"

The first mate shrugged. "You're the avid reader. You tell me."

"You know those romance stories... how the main character is always a nondescript female character?"

"No, I wouldn't know!" the first mate protested, blushing, trying to hide the copy of 'The Dutchess and the White Knight' that he'd been reading discretely a few minutes ago.

"Well, she was a sort of place-holder for the woman reader, who could insert herself into the heroine's shoes, experience what happened in the book _through_ her. Mary-Sues descended from that - they're badly written characters that are supposed to let the woman project herself into the character's role. But in the end, they're so off-putting that they make the readers wretch."

"So... a Gary-Stu is a character males can project themselves into?" the first mate asked.

"See, that's the thing, they're not. Instead, they're usually figures that women can project themselves as being _with_ as a love interest. Thus the unkempt but sensative badboy with a flowing mane of magnificent hair. Guys generally don't project themselves into tight black leather. In almost all ways, Stus and Sues are written by and for women, with no thought about the guys having to read 'em."

"Wow, no wonder the guy fanfiction members are usually bitter sarcastic parody writers..."

They were interrupted by a trio of pirates running up to them. "Cap'n, we got some serious problems with the red-head."

"Oh?"

"She's fighting off her abductors single-handedly - with quite a deal of gusto, I should add. Should I send your parrot down after her?"

Grey-Beard suddenly smiled. "No need to disturb him from his nap. I wonder if I might see her for a moment, there's something I want to try..."

-----------------------

"Hi, Harry," Ginny said, sitting down on the couch next to her boyfriend.

"Hi..." Harry said, almost warily.

Ginny smiled before leaning over, giving him a soft peck on the cheek.

"Are... you ok?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said lightly. "Well, I had a bit of a cough earlier in Charms, I suppose."

Harry almost testingly said, "I don't suppose you know anything about Transmutive Matrices? McGonagall assigned them for homework yesterday..."

Ginny laughed. "Not really. Besides, you don't think she gives me homework, too?" She turned around on the couch to face him, grinning a bit. "Wanna procrastinate a bit? I haven't played chess since term started..."

Harry let out an inaudible sigh. "Sure... that sounds great, Ginny." He got out the board, sitting down on the carpet on one side, but noticed that Ginny didn't sit opposite of the board from him. Instead, she sat on one side, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry about the last few days," she said, her hand rubbing his shoulder as though he'd had a rough day and she was trying to put him at ease. "I know I haven't exactly been myself."

"No you haven't," Harry said without really meaning to. "What was happening? You...you weren't..."

"Yes," she said, looking down at the carpet. "I was... I was turning into a bit of a Sue."

"What happened? How did you get... get better?"

Ginny sighed. "Grey-Beard set me straight."

"Grey-Beard?"

"The pirate captain. He convinced me I should be a reverse Sue, instead."

"What? What the heck is a reverse Sue?"

"I'm going to be someone that the _male_ readers can project themselves as being with romantically. Sort of like a Gary-Stu for the guys."

"In a PG rated fic? Is that even possible?"

"Well," Ginny said, blushing, "Obviously there will be aspects left out of the story."

"And... there are actually male Harry Potter fanfiction readers?"

Ginny frowned. "Not that many, I suppose. Still, it could work out..."

"Tell you what," Harry said, smiling. "Why don't you just forget about anything Sue-ish, or Reversish-Sue, and just be yourself?"

"Whew," Ginny said, sighing, "Because I really can't spend any more time with you right now. I've got _so_ much homework waiting to get done." Harry watched with exasperated amusement as Ginny stopped rubbing his back and went back to her room.

----------------------

Odd chapter. Anyway, I hope nobody minded a bit of gender-poking there... :-)

Finally, review and let me know any other character's you'd like to see. The next chapter is the last one, and is going to be pretty insane, so I'm actually thinking of taking every single character suggestion offered (even if I've never heard of them and have to do a quick googling)


	5. Crossover Chaos

**Mister Stu**

Chapter 5: Crossover Chaos

Author's Note: This was supposed to be one final chapter, but it went far too long. So it's been split, even though I'm posting them both at the same time.

* * *

Harry walked into the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning and immediately stopped, mouth agape. Not only were there the normal students sitting at their tables eating breakfast, but a large assortment of... riff-raff littered the place. In front of the Hufflepuff table was a yellow Volkswagon Bug. Sitting two thirds the way down Slytherin was a man dressed in a black metal suit with apparent breathing difficulties. To his right was a grizzled roughneck instructing first years on how to perform roundhouse kicks. To his left was what appeared to be a half-man, half-fox creature eying the room with a weird gun attached to his tunic. But the biggest eye-catcher was a large cartoonish orange dragon that had apparently crushed a quarter of the Gryffindor table and was breathing fire at the ceiling while a geeky looking guy in a cap cheered it on.

"Oy, Harry, over here," Ron called out from the other end of the Gryffindor benches - which made sense, since their usual seats were now broken shambles.

"What on earth?" he asked as he sat down, but before Ron could answer, McGonagall held up her hand.

"We seem to have a bit of a crossover problem," McGonagall announced.

At this, the collective student body groaned.

"Not another crossover fic," Ron groused. "I always hate those things."

After the crowd quieted down, McGonagall continued, "After we finish the Gary Stu competition, we will be figuring out how to get our... visitors... back to where they came from. Until then, please try to ignore the interruptions and focus on your schoolwork."

"Schoolwork?" a few confused students voiced.

"Right," McGonagall muttered. "Stupid fanfiction - nobody is actually ever in class."

Harry turned to Ginny. "Something's wrong."

"Of course something's wrong - we're in some crossoveraholic author's demented story."

"No, it's something more serious - I have a bad feeling that we're abo..."

"Agh!" Ginny softly shrieked. "The... what date is it?!"

Taken aback, Harry answered her.

"Seven months and three days."

"Huh?"

Ginny swallowed. "Harry, don't you remember? Somntoe? She threatened that she'd open something or other 'Seven Months and Three Days' later..."

A horrifying look of dawning comprehension lit Harry's face. "... and she said that seven months and three days ago?"

"Awful big coincidence, don't you think?"

Harry grimaced. "You're right - let's go try to find the portal and shut it down."

"Shouldn't we get help?" Ginny asked.

"You really are new to fanfiction, aren't you?"

"Hmm?"

"Ginny, it's never freak chance that two shipped characters go off into some dark and dangerous setting with each other. There's always a gratuitous snogging scene somewhere along the way."

"Sounds good! Let's go."

* * *

Ron watched as Harry and Ginny left the Great Hall, wondering what they were up to - but he couldn't do much about it. After all, the fourth and final contest was about to begin and he had to get out to the quidditch stands.

"Oh, you again," Ron said, shaking his head as Yoda climbed on Luna's shoulders. The three of them began the short walk out to the pitch.

"Yes, me it is."

Luna looked over at Ron expectantly.

"What?" Ron asked.

"I'm just waiting."

"Waiting for what?" Ron was obviously bewildered.

"We've gone the whole story so far and you still haven't brought up anagrams."

"Oh!" Ron said, suddenly understanding. "Well, I guess I just figured it was kind of silly."

"Anagrams silly are not," Yoda butted in.

"Normal english, speak," Ron sighed.

"Much about a person anagrams will tell. Very powerful they are."

"Really?" Luna asked. While Ron was rolling his eyes, there wasn't an outlandish claim invented yet that Luna wouldn't buy into.

"Yeah, right," Ron said. "And I suppose my name will tell you all sorts of information about me."

Yoda nodded sagely, and stretched out his arm. Somehow, a sheaf of parchment and a quill flew into his hand and the green creature began to scribble onto it.

Ron shook his head as he took his seat and leaned into the microphone. "Welcome to the fourth and final challenge. The contest has come down to our final two Gary Stus: Garith Chu and Sirius Black. The final event will be... oh, you've got to be flipping kidding me!"

* * *

"... you've got to be flipping kidding me!"

"So at least you're talking to me again," Remus said, rolling his eyes.

"I wouldn't know the slightest thing about how to use either of these," Sirius said, holding a thin short sword in one hand and a nunchuck in the other. "What is the fascination fanfic writers have with fencing and martial arts?"

"I don't know, but you've got to be simply astounding with every form of close quarters combat if you want to win this Stu competition."

Sirius groaned. "Here, let me show you something." He handed Remus the sword and then backed away a few steps. "Now, come at me."

Remus raised an eyebrow and took a charging step at his friend.

"Petrificus," Sirius said lazily. "See that. I mean, what's the point of trying to use a sword when a sane wizard will simply hex you? It's even dumber than the stupid black leather fetish."

"Sirius, the readers don't care. They want to see you go out there and beat down some dark wizards with sword play."

Sirius groaned again. "Fine. But at least I'm not going to be an idiot about it." He turned to the two weapons and began muttering incantations at them.

"Uh... what are you doing?"

"Animation spells on them. The sword will automatically swing itself to block any blows coming my way and the nunchuck will whip around to hit anyone that comes close to me."

"Sirius..."

"Hey, all I have to do is hold on to them and put on some theatrics. Make it look good for the crowd."

"But... there's one little thing you're missing..."

"Nonsense. It's foolproof. Now, I can't stay and chat - the fourth event is starting."

* * *

"Mister Weasley, please announce the fourth task so we can be done with this competition."

Ron shook his head in disgust. "The fourth and final event will be... close quarters combat with a sword and a nunchuck."

"What? More fencing?" Luna said, surprised.

"And, let's begin," Ron said, bored.

Nothing happened.

"I said, let's begin."

Flitwick ran up to the announcer's booth. "There's a small problem. The, er, assistants for this task didn't arrive."

"Assistants?" Ron asked, curious.

"Beat-up fodder from hollywood ninja films."

McGonagall frowned. "Well, I guess there's always one option."

Flitwick looked surprised. "And what would that be?"

"Well, we've got all sorts of crossover characters emerging from somewhere in the castle. We could simply find a group of low-level henchmen from some other universe and use them instead. I'm sure they'd be used to getting the snot beat out of them."

"I'll get right on it," Flitwick assured her. "Could you move everyone into the hall while I look for them?"

* * *

"Harry, do you have any idea of what you're doing?"

Harry bit back a retort - the two of them were getting a bit on each other's nerves. After all, every several seconds an odd person or creature would wind its way through the corridors, and while most of them were harmless or benevolent, every so often they found themselves in a pitched battle with some arch-villain. It wasn't the most relaxed atmosphere to spend time with your girlfriend.

"I think the portal that Somntoe opened up would be down in the dungeons somewhere," Harry replied.

"Well, hopefully w..." Ginny trailed off, squinting down the corridor.

"What did you see."

"A... a monster made out of a mirror, I think."

"What?"

"Well, it had to be - I saw a glimmer of something that looked just like you."

The two stood for a few seconds before a beam of light flew at them, as if a dark wizard cast a spell at them.

Ginny pulled Harry behind a corner and they heard the most surreal sound.

"Whoever you are, let my friend go, and I won't hurt you." Oddest thing was, it sounded just like Harry.

Trusting his instincts, Harry put up his hands in and slowly walked around the corner. "What the..."

Sure enough, it was Harry. Or at least it sure looked like it, though a few details were a bit off. The duplicate didn't have black hair, but brown, and instead of green eyes, the doppleganger had blue ones. And it looked like the new arrival was a year or two younger.

"Oh..." Ginny said, putting it all together. "You're... you're Movie Harry!"

* * *

Ron sighed, waiting impatiently from the staff table of the Great Hall for Flitwick to finish rounding up evil but clueless minions for the task.

"Geez. I hope he hurries up. This is getting boring."

"Luna?"

Ron and Luna both looked over at Yoda.

"The fattest in his family, Ronald Weasley is?"

Luna frowned thoughtfully. "I think so. He used to be thin, but he gained a bit of weight the last few years."

"Hey!" Ron protested.

"Yells a lot does he?"

Luna nodded.

"Sick minded, is he? Not good with friends, is he?"

Luna shrugged. "He's always fighting with them, and he is a bit perverted."

"At the future, badly forecasts, does he?"

"Telling the future?" Luna asked, ignoring Ron's building fury. "Yes, he failed Divination, so I guess that means he's bad at forecasting the future."

Yoda handed Ron, who looked three different shades of purplish red, the slip of paper he'd been scribbling on:

WEASLEY ON LARD

NOW A SAD YELLER

NAY, A LEWD LOSER

AND A LOWLY SEER

Before Ron could finish, Yoda hopped off Luna's shoulder and hobbled out of the Hall - obviously using his ability to forecast the future as Ron looked absolutely murderous.

"Lewd loser," Ron fumed. "Wait 'til I find that hopped-up green lint-ball."

Flitwick burst through the entrance, bringing along what appeared to be a horde of grey spandex wearing men.

"They don't talk," Flitwick said, "but someone said they came from some universe involving morphing ranger powers, or something along those lines."

"Are they disposable?" McGonagall asked.

"Imminently."

"Very well, let the fourth event begin."

* * *

"Movie Harry?" Movie Harry asked.

"Yeah, don't you see," Ginny said excitedly. "You're the Harry Potter from the movies, while my companion here is Fanfiction Harry."

Movie Harry shuddered heavily.

"No, no," Ginny quickly said. "It's all right. It's not a fluff fic or anything. We're actually somewhat close to book characters this go around."

"Listen," Harry said to himself, "we don't have time for this. What year are you?"

"Fifth," Harry answered himself.

"Okay, can you take us to the headmaster? Is he here as well?"

"Of course."

Harry, or some Harry at least, began leading the trio through the corridors towards the not-dead-yet Dumbledore.

"You know," Ginny joked, grinning, "it's probably a good thing the author doesn't write much fluff. Can you imagine what things would devolve into with me, Harry, and a clone of Harry, all alone in the dark dungeons...?"

Both Harry's rolled their eyes.

"I do believe, Harry, that you owe a bit of an explanation..."

All three stopped when they heard the voice. "Dumbledore," Harry said in wonder.

Ginny quickly burst out, telling everything from start to finish. Afterwards, Dumbledore stood silently for a bit, mulling everything over. "Clearly," he finally said, "we must find the portal which these strange characters, myself and my student included, are coming from."

"But how?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore didn't answer him, and instead, closed his eyes. His fingers snaked around his wand, which he clenched in front of him. The old man tentatively walked forward as if being guided by a divining rod.

Shrugging, the trio of students followed him.


	6. The Final Return

**Mister Stu**

Chapter 6: The Final Return

* * *

Sirius had to admit, he was far too amused for description. All he had done so far is hold on to his weapons, and evil crony after evil crony were mowed down by them. Oh, sure, if any of them had been dark wizards, he would've been destroyed helplessly in a second or two - but given that most of the foes didn't even have as much as a knife, he was relatively safe. Plus, for some reason, the bad guys never attacked more than one at a time.

Sirius shot a glance over at Garith who looked to be having the time of his life, fighting off his opponents with gusto.

"Team up?" Sirius offered.

Garith took a few seconds to respond (he was in the middle of a very acrobatic and overly complicated fighting move.) "Sure, why not?"

They inched closer together to guard each other's back. And at first, everything seemed great - they had a much easier time (well, at least Garith did; Sirius never had to do much to begin with) as enemies could only come at them from one direction.

However, the one small flaw in Sirius' plan came to light. He'd enchanted his nunchuck to attack, not specific people, but anyone that came close to him.

"OW!" Garith said, clutching the back of his head where the wooden cylinder had hit. "Watch what you're doing!"

"I'm sorry," Sirius said, and then realized... he didn't have his wand with him - he couldn't undo the spell! He tried to edge back away from Garith, only to find the evil minions pressing towards him. He backpedaled a step and felt the nunchucks once again wheel around to whack Garith.

"Okay, that is it!" Garith turned about-face and swung his sword at Sirius.

"But, wait," Sirius said, but it was no use. His sword instinctively parried Garith's attack as he launched forward with another blow.

"I always knew it would come down to this," Garith said. "Mono-a-mono, man-to-man, a fight to the bloody death, where only one soul will..."

* * *

"Here it is," Dumbledore said gravely. It was hardly needed. Harry felt reasonably certain that he would've figured out that a giant glowing orb the size of a small muggle car that flashed a blinding neon orange every twelve seconds wasn't a normal denizen of the dungeons. "I can shut the portal, but I'll need assistance."

"What do we need to do?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore smiled kindly. "The assistance I'll need will have to come from older wizards."

"Oh," Harry said. "Well, let's get it up to the Great Hall, then." He raised his wand experimentally at the orb, but found that magic seemed to fizzle at its perimeter.

"You'll have to lift it by hand," Dumbledore said gently.

Harry groused as he walked over, prepared to be carrying a heavy burden, only to find the huge sphere weighed less than a pound. In fact, Harry wished it was heavier, because each time a slight gust of air came through the corridor, it pushed the sphere around like an oversized feather.

"Can you help?" Harry asked Dumbledore as the three students wrestled with the orb.

"No," Dumbledore said softly. "I'll be needed to guard you."

His comment soon made sense as they made their way along the passageways of the dungeon. For every few seconds, a figure appeared from nothingness along the corridor. And each time, Dumbledore was forced to make a snap judgment on whether the newcomer was good or evil, and quickly neutralize the ones that appeared malevolent.

The appearances grew more rapid, as did the flashing of the sphere.

"It's speeding up!" Harry cried, trying to hurry up the steps leading to the entryway.

Dumbledore shouted back, "It's close to fully opening. Quickly!"

However, as he said it, the headmaster's attention waned for that critical half second. A rotund egg-shaped man emerged and pointed an electric beam at the elder wizard. Dumbledore's body crumpled and withered under the onslaught.

"Dumbledore!" Movie-Harry called out.

"No!" Fanfiction-Harry yelled. "We have to keep going." They quickly ran as fast as they were able while not losing control of their exotic cargo. At one point, Harry could swear they were about to get pulverized by the same weapon that killed Dumbledore, only to see a blue flash seem to fly up, hit it, and spin away.

"Need some help?"

Harry looked over to see a man in red and blue spandex with a giant 'S' emblazoned on his chest. Ordinarily, Harry would deem someone dressing like that as the one needing help, but this was hardly a usual circumstance.

They were quickly joined by a couple wearing black leather, black sunglasses, and a huge arsenal of personal firearms - and the small posse finished the distance to their destination. The couple kicked open the door to the Great Hall, guns at the ready, only to be greeted by more surrealness.

The Gary-Stus were still going at it, but that was hardly the focus of attention. You couldn't look any direction without seeing someone - or something - completely out of place. A roundish hunter with a shotgun looked at the heavily armed pair of muggles and asked them to go "wabbit" hunting. A big pink puffball opened his mouth and sucked in three Slytherins before hopping on a giant star, which was chased by not only the same blue blur as before, but a second black blur. A woman with a seashell in her hair kept singing about where people walk while being sketched by a destitute blond-haired man.

Breaking Harry's attention, the sphere suddenly turned an ominous dark bluish-purple and floated up into the air. White tendrils erupted from the surface, which suddenly seemed to collapse in on itself. No longer did it have the appearance of a perfect sphere - it looked the full part of a vortex leading into chaos and disorder.

"Bwuahaha!"

The entire room, Hogwart denizens and visitors alike, looked over towards the booming voice.

"Somntoe!" several students wailed.

For the demoness "greatest sue" had broken through the wall of the room, surveying the collection with contempt.

"And now," she said, with complete and utter malice, "I shall break down all the barriers of reality, all the seperations from one world and the next. I shall throw all of you into chaos, into desolation, into oblivion. Despair, for the hour of your doom is at hand!"

"No it's not!"

Somntoe drew herself up to her full height, regarding the upstart that dared to contradict her.

"Dude, Garith," whispered Sirius, "maybe we should just lay low for this one..."

Before either of the contestants could do much more, though, Somntoe snapped a finger. That's all it took. Both Garith and Sirius flew backward, flying a third of the distance of the hall to collide nastily against the wall. Sirius got mildly lucky and only got knocked unconscious, but Garith hit the wall head first.

"Now, bow down mortals, so that I migh..."

However, she trailed off, and it was pretty obvious why. There was a student approaching her, their head held high in obvious challenge.

It was Ronald Weasley.

"I can defeat you," he said in a defiant voice.

Somntoe burst into uncontrolled laughter. She wasn't alone - this was Ron, after all. Pretty much everyone in the school found that idea humorous.

"You, a little boy, defeat the all-powerful and all-knowing Somntoe Anaya Namagirm?"

"Yes," Ron said, to the amazement of everyone around. "Are you too afraid to match me?"

Somntoe laughed again. "Fine, mortal, we'll have a bit of entertainment before the end of the universe."

"What are the stakes?"

Somntoe grinned. "Interesting. You intend to make a deal with the devil?"

"Yes," Ron stated. "I win, you put things right and never return. If you win, we all die, having been defeated by the greatest power in all of existence."

"Agreed."

At this, the entire hall groaned. Their fate depended on Ronald Weasley?

"We're doomed," Ginny whispered.

"No, we're not," Harry moaned, his eyes closed in exasperation. "Not if what I think's about to happen..."

Sure enough, piercing music began to play through the hall.

"Eye... of the tiger?" Ginny said, confused. "But that's what was playing when... oh, Merlin, please no."

Sure enough, Ron whipped out a chessboard. "It's just you and me, Somntoe, with the world at stake, on a eight by eight grid of death and destruction..."

* * *

Harry and Ginny were torn between perverse excitement and crushing boredom, watching as the red-haired geek and the monstrous demoness called out chess moves.

"Well," Harry said with nausea, "I guess I know now why we don't see too many Ron-centric action fics."

Ginny nodded, watching as Somntoe grew more and more dour while Ron's determined face grew more and more optimistic. Finally, a loud roar half-deafened the attendees, announcing the end of the game.

"I'm the hero, baby!" Ron called out, pumping his arms. "Just call me Mister Stu!"

"You have not seen the last of me! Some day, when the magic bound in our deal wears off, I will come back and kill you all!"

Harry knew that now was the time to act. The moment the door shut behind Somntoe, Harry shot an incantation-less spell at Ron, knocking him unconscious.

"Everyone here agree that Ron is a prat?"

"Yes!" came the vast reply.

"And that he'd be absolutely insufferable if he saved all of mankind?"

"Yes!"

Harry surveyed the people in the room. "Good. I've got a plan..."

* * *

"Ronald Weasley, wake up!"

Ron shook his head as he opened his eyes. "Huh... what?"

"I don't take kindly to my students napping in my class," McGonagall remanded him. "Five points from Gryffindor. And if I see you do it again, you'll get double homework. As I was saying, class is dismissed."

"Whoa, Harry, Hermione... something weird just happened."

Harry and Hermione, not trusting themselves, didn't say a word.

"I just... I just had this dream, except it wasn't a dream. It was about the Gary-Stu contest."

"Gary-Stu contest? You mean the thing over at Durmstrang?" Harry ventured.

"Durmstrang? It was moved over here!"

"What are you talking about? McGonagall said the final event was scheduled tonight at their quidditch pitch."

"Huh, wait... what?!"

"Ron, you were dreaming."

"But... I couldn't. I mean... you don't understand... what I saw covered days... weeks... I couldn't have dreamed it all up... could I?"

"Don't ask me. I was being bored to tears by eigenmutive transvectors."

"That's Transmutive Eigenvectors," Hermione corrected. "Honestly, you're almost as bad as Ron. At least you didn't fall asleep." With that, she gave a theatric gaze at her boyfriend.

"Huh..." Ron said, still shaking his head. "Well, I guess it's one way to get through Transfiguration."

Hermione and Harry shot each other a glance. "Thank god," Hermione mouthed, grateful that Ron had been shunted from turning into a monolithic Stu.

That is, until he started whistling Eye of the Tiger.

* * *

"What? Why is the story still going?"

Remus smiled at his bed-ridden companion. "There's one last thing to do, Padfoot."

"Oh?"

Remus pulled out a hardcover book, smiling at Sirius' groan at seeing it to be the 'Guide To Gary-Studom', hardback edition. "Final chapter," he instructed, handing his friend the tome.

Sirius groaned, but opened the book to the end. "What? 'Redemption'?"

"That's the last element of Gary Stus, Padfoot. You have to be redeemed."

"What do you mean?"

Remus sighed. "There are two aspects to Gary Sues. The first, and most obvious, is the unkempt bad-boy. You know, the black leather, the flowing hair, the devil-may-care attitude, the cutting wit, blah blah blah. But the second part involves a female character - typically the female character the author most identifies with - showing you so much love and tenderness that she breaks you of your questionable ways until all that's left is a model of purity and light. I mean, look what the fangirls to Snape in their fics - he practically turns into a teddy bear by the end. For lack of a better term, the final step is for a woman to tame you."

"Oh?" Sirius grinned. "Who on earth could possibly achieve do that to me?"

The door creaked open, admitting a middle-aged woman.

"No... you've got to be kidding me," Sirius moaned.

"Something the matter?" asked McGonagall.

* * *

Well, that's the end of this journey! Feel free to review.


End file.
